


The Plant Show

by meliaemere



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Plants?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-04 03:56:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13355988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meliaemere/pseuds/meliaemere
Summary: Crowley competes in a plant show. Aziraphale comes with him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Good Omens Holiday Exchange! Beta'd by my wonderful friend Rowan. This is my first time writing a whole... anything, and certainly first publishing any writing publicly. I hope it's pretty okay!

 

~~~~~

“Aziraphale?”

“Mm?” 

“There’s this thing next month...”

“Thing? You’ll have to be more specific.”

“It’s a plant show.”

“Oh! That should be lovely. Yes, I’d love to come along, my dear.”

“I was thinking of competing.”

“… I don’t like the aggressive implications of that 'competing' at all, Crowley. I hope you’re not planning any nonsense to put yourself ahead.”

“I have my pride, thank you. By which I mean, I already know my plants are the best in the city, no nonsense on judgment day needed.”

Crowley  _ had _ looked genuinely insulted, and then quickly genuinely full of himself. But you don’t spend 6000 years with somebody without noticing how things tend to go tumbling downhill when they put their mind to something.

“Alright… But no silly business.”

“No silly business. I promise.”

~~~~~

And so Sunday morning Aziraphale found himself awkwardly hovering beside Crowley’s show table as other contestant bustled by him, preparing their own displays. The spacious showroom was crisply chill to keep the cut arrangements fresh. There was a raw smell in the air not quite unlike newly cut grass. The murmurs of the early birds echoed off the concrete floor and high ceiling, making the place seem even larger and emptier.

Crowley was off unloading the last of his plants from the rental car (1). Aziraphale had offered to help, but Crowley had refused, citing that Aziraphale’s good will towards the shrubbery might ruin his hard work. Couldn’t have them thinking they could slack off when he needed them at their best. And so, with two curt pats to Aziraphale’s shoulder, Crowley had been off. 

At least for the moment he had time to stop and appreciate the small things, literally smell a rose or two, watch as Crowley worked over his plants. And the ones he had already brought in  _ were _ lovely…Glossy leaves, resplendent blooms, not a dead growth in sight. The spiky, pink-flowered one Aziraphale had poked at had been sharp enough to cut him. He didn’t know very much about plants, but that seemed like it probably counted for something.

Crowley returned with the next armful of plants. He gently placed them on the table with their fellows before standing back upright. He raised an unimpressed eyebrow at Aziraphale, who was nursing his pricked finger in his mouth. 

“I told you not to touch them.” Crowley pulled a band-aid out of the air with a flick, taking Aziraphale’s hand in his.

“I only wanted a better look at it,” Aziraphale said, despondently watching as Crowley applied the bandage a tad tightly.

Crowley finished with Aziraphale’s cut and turned to exactly the offending plant, already knowing which one Aziraphale must have been pestering. 

“Usually I would encourage this kind of thing, but you’ve got to learn to be more discriminating. Undifferentiated meeting out of misery just isn’t strategic and you certainly aren’t doing  _ me _ any favors pricking  _ that one _ .” Crowley turned back to Aziraphale with a fond look on his face. “She’s one of my favorites.”

“Of course it is,” Aziraphale said darkly, finger stinging.

“Don’t be like that, you brought it on yourself. It’s not like she pulled herself from her terracotta pot and attacked you,” Crowley snorted. 

“She could have…”

“A plant?”

“Those Venus flytraps can move.”

“More reflex than anything.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. But nevermind that, I’ve got something that’ll please you.” Crowley reached for his pants pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He handed it to Aziraphale. “Looks like they’ve got some special tour of the horticultural library. I know you couldn’t give a hoot about what they have to say about plants, but biggest collection of its kind in the world, I’d bet they have a piece or two to pique your interest.”

Aziraphale was indeed pleased, eyeing over the pamphlet, cut forgotten and replaced with thoughts of hand-drawn illustrations and delicate, aged paper. 

“Well! I would hate to leave you, moral support and all, but I’m sure I’d just be a distraction anyway, wouldn’t want to bumble something and hurt your chances, it seems you have it in hand, so…” Aziraphale was already turning away, attempting to decipher the tiny, inaccurate map printed on the paper. Surely Crowley would be fine on his own for a bit, he would only be gone for an hour, or two…

“Have fun,” Crowley called, amused, to Aziraphale’s unhearing back.

[1. Despite Crowley’s equal love for the Bentley and his plants, never the twain shall meet. Couldn't risk the dirt stains.]

~~~~~

And so Aziraphale in fact spent four hours and twenty-seven minutes in the collections. He had slipped the guide soon after she had begun discussing the minor leaf differences between two 12 syllable species of crab apple and had had himself a fine time simply admiring the artistry - and rarity – of the library’s botanical catalogs. 

Though he had stayed longer than he had intended, he did make sure to return to Crowley before the judging began, phone alarm buzzing in his pocket (2). Aziraphale silenced it and double-checked the time as he approached Crowley’s table. Only a handful of minutes left before the judges would be coming by. There was Crowley now, lounging back in his plastic folding chair and arms crossed behind his head.  _ Better overconfident than pacing and wringing his hands and working himself into a mess like he’s wont to do, I suppose _ , Aziraphale thought to himself.

“Crowley! Forgive me, I know the time got a bit away from me,” Aziraphale said with a chuckle.

Crowley only frowned at him in greeting.

“… You’re upset.”

“I guess it’s an improvement that you can at least tell that much.” Crowley paused and then hastily added; “I’m  _ not _ upset. Annoyed. Ticked off.”

“Whichever it is, I am sorry, I didn’t think you’d mind me being gone for a few hours when you showed me that flyer. You know what I’m like when you let me around new, old books.” A lopsided, amused smile streaked across Crowley’s face fast as a bullet the second before he reigned it in. Aziraphale continued, encouraged. “I really thought you would be happy to keep yourself busy with all the quaint little plant stalls around.”

“Well. I did for a bit. I got talked into this interesting  _ moraea _ hybrid. And then I had to find other ways to amuse myself.”

“Crowley, we talked about this!” Aziraphale said, exasperated. He cast about to see if he could spy any of the inevitable mischief Crowley must have caused, but did not see anything immediate.

“The absence of silly business was based on the assumption that you would be around to tell me off if it happened, and that you wouldn’t disappear for five hours –“

“Three minutes short of even four and a half, actually.” Aziraphale said. He poked Crowley in the shoulder. “Honestly, I’m tempted to say you’re worse these days than before our Arrangement.”

“There’s no  _ tempted _ , you already said it. And that’s because you think it’s endearing now.” Crowley finally let up and grinned.

“My absentmindedness can’t be similarly forgiven?” Aziraphale tried.

“Nah. That’s only funny when it’s happening to other people. Ah, here come the judges.” Crowley stood. Aziraphale saw him wring his hands once before hiding them behind his back. Perhaps not as free of nerves as he appeared. 

The three judges had just finished with the stall across the aisle and were now approaching them. Behind the three, Aziraphale could see previous contestant, standing over some quite nice cactuses. They looked downtrodden, in the way a child looks downtrodden when they bring a stick figure drawing to the school art show and their teacher tells them, unbearably politely, “Oh, isn’t that  _ nice _ …” 

Aziraphale was exactly the same breed of unbearably polite and he recognized his kin in the judges faces immediately. He had a bad feeling about this.

“Hello, contestant 37D?” Said the judge with the name tag  _ Arnold _ and a voice as thick as the glasses sitting on his face.

“Yes, uh, hi,” Crowley gave a little wave before he shoved his hand behind his back again. “You can call me Crowley, actually.”

“Of course, contestant,”  _ Arnold _ said, attention already on Crowley’s plants. Aziraphale’s nose prickled. 

“What have you got for us today, sir?” said another of the judges, this one’s name  _ Evan _ . They looked over their clipboard and tapped it with a long, glittery nail “This says you’re in the miscellaneous category?”

“Yeah,” Crowley’s stance relaxed. Aziraphale relaxed, too, as Crowley seemed to fall into his element, listing off plants at the table. He pointed to one Aziraphale at least knew was a succulent, apparently burro’s tail. Another, white stripes marking its spines, zebra haworthia. Next was poison primrose, friendly peach flowers and large, soft foliage seemingly unassuming. The weeping fig was quite a plain little sapling, but Crowley seemed pleased with it nonetheless. Crowley straightened proudly as he reached the last plant, the selfsame one that had pricked Aziraphale earlier.

“And this, the silver vase plant.” Crowley beamed and swept a hand over its fluorescent pink bloom and wide, marbled leaves.  

“Mhm, very nice, but this poison primrose…” Began the third judge,  _ Kamala _ , who had the sort of gaze that didn’t so much go  _ through _ you as seem to rest several distracted inches in front of your face. “Four petals?”

“Yes? Yes.” Crowley frowned. “What’s wrong with four petals?”

“And your weeping fig, the collars on the branches are quite pronounced,” Evan took out a measuring tape and held it against the plant. “Two-point-four millimeters too pronounced.”

Crowley didn’t reply.

“Who’s keeping track of two-point-four millimeters, really?” Aziraphale said.

Arnold turned to another sheet on his clipboard, covered in swatches of color. He held it against the two succulents, studying the plants for several seconds. Aziraphale clasped Crowley’s arm, dread filling him.

“I’m afraid these are just a few shades off… The burro’s tail should really be more  _ spring _ green than  _ lime _ green, and you see how the haworthia here has a mild ombre from emerald to jade? The  _ proper _ coloration is jade to emerald.”

“We should be off to the next contestant now.” Kamala said and meaningfully raised her eyebrows at the other judges.

“Well! Thank you for competing today, Mr. Crowley. Your entries were very…  _ nice _ .” Evan offered.

“Someone will have your score back to you by the end of the show. Good day.” Arnold said with disheartening finality. And they were gone.

“…What an unbearable lot,” Aziraphale sniffed, and then looked to Crowley, his forearm still in hand. “Are you…?”

“I didn’t think the judging criteria would be so specific.” Crowley sunk down into his chair. “S’pose there’s no point now, may as well go home while we can still do something with the day.”

“Come now, Crowley,” Aziraphale kneeled beside Crowley and put a comforting hand on his knee. “Don’t be like that… You may not get the gold for perfect specimen, but they have to see how hard you’ve worked on your plants! Maybe-“

“Oh, hello, just thought I’d pop back for a moment to let you know our criteria also applies for silver. Bye!” Kamala popped back around the huge display of orchids flanking Crowley’s table just as quickly as she had appeared. Aziraphale scowled after her for a moment before looking back to Crowley. 

“Bronze would still be… nice?” Aziraphale cringed at his own word choice. Crowley slouched further down in his seat and crossed his arms. Aziraphale rubbed his knee fretfully. “Suppose… I turned my eye from a  _ little _ cheating.”

“I’d always know my plants didn’t  _ really _ win anything and what’s the point of that,” Crowley sniffed and Aziraphale felt his heart twist. 

“You really are disappointed, aren’t you?” Crowley stared ahead and didn’t respond, but his cheeks seemed to go the slightest red. Aziraphale stood. “Alright. Let’s say you wait here just a moment while I finish up in the library collection, and then I treat you to that snazzy, new Korean place with the pithy name that you like. How’s that sound?”

“Alright.” Crowley remained slouched in his chair. He unfolded his arms, took out his phone (3), and began unenthusiastically scrolling over it. 

“Right then,” Aziraphale said. He walked off among the aisles of tables and stalls, back towards the library.

And then, when he was quite sure he had put enough foliage between himself and Crowley, he doubled back and in the direction the judges had gone.

[2. Crowley had bought him a modern phone a few years back. Aziraphale didn’t much care about actually  _ calling _ people with it, but he had to admit that the utility of having a calendar, notepad, alarm clock, and more within one small device  _ was _ convenient. He had suddenly found himself late to many fewer of his dinners with Crowley, especially when Crowley had taken to magicking the phone unlocked and oh, so helpfully setting the alarms himself. Without telling Aziraphale. The insistent vibrating and squawking had shocked Aziraphale out of many a reading stupor, and had dirtied almost as many of his shirts with spilled cocoa.]

[3. Bought barely more than a month after Crowley’s last. Apparently he just had to have the latest, even when he had such an awful time learning all the new ins and outs. Aziraphale didn’t know how any company sustained such a release schedule. Crowley thought it was brilliant they got away with it, of course. Aziraphale tactfully didn’t voice that Crowley seemed just as victim to it.]

~~~~~

Imagine a young man. A fairly average-looking young man, but perhaps with some self-pitying doubts about it himself. The young man’s head is filled with delusions of academic grandeur about his own intelligence, and a well of disregard for lab safety codes and public wellbeing. The usual suspect when things are about to go very wrong.

Today, the young man has brought a single plant with him to the show. At the moment, the “plant” is not much more than a simple, unassuming twig laying in an airtight acrylic box covered in thick cloth.

Aziraphale accidentally knocks shoulders with the young man as he storms past. Aziraphale murmurs an apology. The young man glares after him. In the collision, the cloth has slipped off just enough to let a sliver of light fall upon the twig. The young man does not notice. Perhaps it would have been wiser to secure the plant within a light-proof bag or box not so easily jostled, but neither could be pulled off with quite the same flourish, could they? Too late now, in any case.

The twig  _ grows _ .

 


	2. Chapter 2

~~~~~

“Excuse me! Excuse me.”

Aziraphale had finally caught up with the judges. They stood over another contestant’s table, who they seemed considerably more pleased with than they had been with Crowley. The contestant wore a securely smug expression. They hadn’t noticed Aziraphale.

“My! That coloring!”

“What form!”

“The petalage!”

“I don’t believe that’s a word…”

Aziraphale purposefully tapped Arnold on the shoulder. That is to say, politely and appropriately apologetically for interrupting. _More flies with honey_ , Aziraphale reminded himself.

“Oh, hello, you were from the last-“

“Yes, with a Mr. Crowley, who I think you were rather quick to judge. Which, I suppose, I can’t say I’m not guilty of myself, but we’ve let bygones be bygones, of course... At any rate, went about it without so much as a how-do-you-do, and I know you must be busy, but if you just took a moment to admire them I’m sure you’d see that his plants really _are_ something. Passing over them simply because they don’t meet some exacting, predetermined rules is- is just-“ Aziraphale grasped for a phrasing that wouldn’t be insulting to the judges, their occupation, and their institution all in one. He was also feeling a bit more self-aware than he tended to consider within a comfortable range. He decided to stop. “Well?”

The judges gave each other embarrassed looks.

Did that work? Aziraphale thought hopefully. He gave them a bright smile for good measure. At this point most people were so intimidated by Aziraphale’s kindly unrelenting surety that he would have his way, that they let him have it regardless. Unfortunately, the judges were already inoculated to exactly this kind of thing from years of experience.

“Look… Every year we get guests just like you, so very concerned that the entrant they’re rooting for is getting cheated. And that’s very admirable of you and I’m sure the specimens _are_ very nice-“ If Aziraphale’s temper was an undisturbed pot of water, it suddenly gave a boiling _pop_ at Arnold’s words.

“You _did_ just see them, so I’d imagine you’d have to have quite the poor memory to not be sure. “Aziraphale felt a twinge of guilt at his own tone.

“Y’know,” said the currently mid-judgment contestant, deciding to very helpfully state the obvious at exactly the wrong moment. “You really can’t make a fuss if your contestant didn’t read the rules. The majority of us followed them fine.”

“Y’know,” Aziraphale said, cold and flat as a sheet of ice. “I don’t think it’s any of your business.”

If the contestant had had a small, obnoxiously yappy dog – as we might imagine such a person to have – this would be the moment where even it was mercifully shocked into silence. Since no such dog was present, there was no merciful silence. There was only uncomfortable, human silence that someone would breach decorum so. And infuriated, angelic silence. For how often Aziraphale was at the other end of it, he did not take well to being _know-it-alled_.

“I mean… He’s not wrong, sir,” Kamala finally spoke up in a squeak. “The rules are so precise so that the judging is fair… So it’s standardized and unbiased, you see.”

Aziraphale deflated a bit at that. The rules really were meant with good intention.

“Yes, but… Isn’t there any leeway? Perhaps for particularly exceptional plants?” Aziraphale looked to each of the judges in turn.

The judges looked at each other uncertainly.

“I suppose, but…” Evan started. They looked to the other two for help.

“To be frank with you, that specimen would have to be absolutely show stopping,” Arnold finished. “And I’m afraid we did not see anything quite that caliber at Mr. Crowley’s table.”

Aziraphale considered this for a moment. He thought about how each of Crowley’s plants were in perfect condition and health. He thought about how Crowley spent an hour with his plants nearly every day, fawning over his plants one by one, even if what he showered them in might be at the extreme of “tough love”. He thought about Crowley’s easy pride this morning as he looked over his prized plants, the way he gently cradled them to the table like they were precious cargo. Aziraphale thought about how stupidly, inexplicably dedicated to his plants Crowley was.

“I think- _I think you had better take a second look_ ,” Aziraphale said with Meaning.

The judges dazedly turned to each other and murmured their agreement. The now abandoned contestant began to protest. Someone touched Aziraphale’s shoulder.

Aziraphale readied a “Hello, I’m sorry, could it wait just a moment, please.” He would feel guiltier the longer he had the judges under his thrall- ahem, that is, the longer he kept them from their duties, so better to get this over with. As he thought this, the touch confusingly wrapped and constricted around his forearm. He turned, and looked up, and looked up.

“Huh.” Above him loomed a heavy gush of vines. He heard the other contestant run screaming away. He also heard the judges begin babbling about how they should really be getting on to reassess Mr. Crowley’s plants, that they hoped he wouldn’t mind if the vines delayed them a bit, the newbies should really know to be tidier. Aziraphale quickly snapped his fingers to release them. They exited much the same way as the contestant.

At his snap, several more of the tendrils jerked in his direction and streamed towards him. Aziraphale experimentally pulled away from the vine holding him. There was a bit of give, but it resolutely did not let go. The other vines reached him and began to circle up his calves.

“Oh, no, no, no, no thank you.” The vines went up in delicate _pomfs_ of ash as Aziraphale incinerated them with a blink. Perhaps a bit overkill, but he had been panicked and a fair amount distracted by the tickling of the vines. He’d even accidentally scorched his own clothes, soot marks all along where the vines had wrapped themselves.

The brittle, cremated weeds at Aziraphale’s feet did not seem to have deterred the massive plant. More vines than before were steadily heading towards him.

At least he needn’t suspect Crowley. He usually had enough good sense to be more discreet than this. However, not knowing the cause was not an altogether comforting thought…

~~~~~

Crowley looked up from slicing virtual fruit as screams and shouts began to go up around the showroom. Though he had made some minor mischief during his wait for Aziraphale, tangling together several separate shoelaces into one great knot and misplacing many a specially formulated fertilizer, he didn’t think he had unleashed anything (harmlessly) terrifying enough to set off such a panic. Humans began hurrying past his table, towards the front entrance. Crowley briefly considered following them, avoid getting caught up in anything. Curiosity got the best of him.

Crowley got up and peaked around the towering table of orchids, in the direction the others had run from.

Where Aziraphale had been a little distracted being caught up in the plant proper, from afar Crowley could appreciate the true scope of its growth. The woody vines had grown up along the west wall and had reached the ceiling, pressing against the windowed roofing. The writhing brambles at the base of the wall nearly blocked off the other end of the hall.

Crowley whistled. And then looked up, as he heard the creaking and groaning of metal overhead. A few thick vines had already reached this end of the hall and were constricting around support girders as they grew. As they reached the windows, they pushed and pushed outward until the glass came raining down, the vines spilling quickly through the opening.

With a twitch of his nose, the glass shards were gone before they could fall on Crowley, but the vines were doing the same to more and more window panes along the hall. Hopefully any humans still about would be wise enough to not stand under them. The miracle of the glass into polycarbonate seemed perhaps a stretch of his powers.

Crowley returned to his table and slotted the silver vase plant into the crook of his arm. Time to drag Aziraphale away from the books and get out of here. Or more likely, get roped into doing something about all this. Ah, well.

As Crowley turned to head towards the library, there was the _fwoom_ of a fireball behind him, followed by the crackling and popping of wood and foliage.

“Crowley! There you are.” Seems Aziraphale had already cut to the chase on that plan.

“Here I am, exactly where you would expect me to be. And why were you over there, in the direction of this mess, and not at the collections?” Crowley paused. “A flamethrower?”

“Don’t be impractical, Crowley.” Aziraphale looked at him over his glasses. “Simple, human fuel and ignition is much more convenient than summoning up a handful of holy fire for every vine that trickles my way.”

“Oh, no, I wholeheartedly approve. Très badass.” Aziraphale knew Crowley’s lingo well enough by now to be flattered. “But you haven’t answered my other, more important question. Please tell me you did this, it’ll make my day.”

“What- Why would I do something like this?!”

“… To cheer me up?” Crowley said hopefully.

“Oh. I’ll admit I was trying to do that, but not with… this.” Aziraphale looked uncertainly at the still growing vines. “I assume it’s not your doing, either?”

“Can’t say it is-“ A look of wonder came over Crowley’s face. “Aziraphale. I think it’s human-made.”

“Don’t be silly, they shouldn’t have anything like this for- for… Oh, we both know I don’t keep up with the schedule of when they’re supposed to invent what, but it shouldn’t be for a while yet I’m sure. And certainly not on this scale, this is just obtrusively useless.”

“You know humans. Never do what you expect.” Aziraphale gave a long-suffering sigh.

“No. I suppose not.”

They stood for a moment, simply watching the exponentially expanding plant, a wonder of human science and pigheadedness. Aziraphale coughed.

“Should we be doing something?”

“I thought we agreed we really didn’t make much of a difference last time.” Crowley rubbed at his nose.

“You making us raise the wrong child for twelve years isn’t an excuse to call it a day at any sign of trouble, Crowley.”

“One. Not my fault. Two. Who says there’s trouble? It could be a friendly giant plant. It hasn’t eaten anybody- yet.” Aziraphale shuddered.

“Don’t say that, I don’t even want to think about how something like that digests things… It tried to grab me, you know.” He absentmindedly rubbed at his arm where the first vine had grabbed him.

“I told you not to watch that Shop of Horrors thing so many times. It’s giving you ideas.”

“You only told me that because it has the word “horror” in the title and you refuse to watch it with me.” Aziraphale squinted at Crowley.

“Whatever.” Crowley’s bad mood returned. “Why don’t you just burn the stupid thing down?”

“And the entire building and library with it?” Aziraphale looked horrified. “It’s already growing along all the walls. Who knows how far it’s gotten while we’ve been talking.”

“Have any better ideas?”

“You’re the one with the plant hobby. What do you do with the pesky ones?” Another window shattered above them and Aziraphale waved the glass away.

“I ritually sacrifice them to the fire in front of my other plants, of course. Lets them know I mean business.” Crowley gave Aziraphale a serpent-eyed look over his glasses for effect. “Or I leave them on the curb for somebody else to deal with.”

“Very useful input.” Aziraphale sighed and then perked up. “Perhaps if we simply stepped back for a moment to consider the matter…”

“Maybe over lunch? Who knows, the humans might just work it out while we’re gone.” Crowley gave Aziraphale an amiable nudge.

“Too true. The Cinnamon Club?”

“I thought you promised me On the Bab…”

They began strolling towards the front entrance, only lunch in mind. A vine ventured too close and Aziraphale blasted it away. Crowley took Aziraphale’s arm.

But as they neared the hall to the lobby, they heard the beating of several pairs of running feet against linoleum. The first human emerged before them.

“The- the vines-,” They started, with fear in their eyes. This fear was quickly replaced by blank confusion. “A flamethrower?”

Aziraphale instantly miracled it away. The human blinked repeatedly in disbelief, but luckily for Aziraphale they had seen enough unbelievable things that day that just one more could be forgotten, for the best really…

“A flamethrower? That would be convenient, wouldn’t it, Gladys?” The rest of the humans had followed a second after the first. It was the judges and a few other contestants.

“Yes…” The first human, apparently Gladys, said a tad vaguely. Aziraphale drummed his fingers against his leg and truly erased the memory for good measure. Gladys shook themself.

“Gosh, it’s you two from earlier. You’re stuck in here, too, huh?” Kamala wrung her hands.

Aziraphale and Crowley looked at each other.

“Stuck?” Crowley asked, much like someone who’s never had more trouble with a lock than giving it a disdainful look for not _already_ unlocking itself at his presence (4). Aziraphale elbowed him. Crowley took the hint and attempted to look concerned. He about half made it to inconvenienced.

“The vines have grown all over the doors and they were too thick for us to pull off by hand. We thought we could find some gardening tools in here strong enough to cut them down.” Arnold answered.

At this moment, a powerful vine wrapped itself around Aziraphale’s middle and lifted him high into air. Aziraphale hiccupped in surprise.

“Wh- Hey!” Crowley shook a useless fist at the plant. There were gasps and swears from the humans behind him. Crowley saw Gladys dart to a stall out of the corner of his eye. They picked up a bottle of something, unscrewed the cap hurriedly, and splashed it at the nearest stretch of vine.

The vine tensed, shuddered, and dropped Aziraphale several feet to the ground. Watching it retreat away, Crowley couldn’t help but imagine a dog with its tail between its legs, which was impressive because it was only an inexpressive length of plant slithering across the floor. He felt a little bad.

Aziraphale landed on his feet not ungracefully, cringed, and fell to one side.

“Ow,” Aziraphale said with a pathetic look on his face.

“It was only a few feet, it couldn’t be that bad,” Crowley kneeled and put a hand to Aziraphale’s shoulder in concern even so.

“I sprained my ankle.” Aziraphale fixed it with a thought and a grimace. “But, ahem, I’m already feeling much better!”

“See? Up you go then.” Crowley stood and offered Aziraphale a hand up. Aziraphale gratefully accepted being pulled to his feet.

“Why did it attack you? It hasn’t attacked anyone else yet.” Asked Evan, perturbed.

“Erm…” Aziraphale bit his lip. He had his theory, but…

“Maybe it’s getting more aggressive,” offered Kamala. Worried murmurs of “gosh” and “goodness” went up around the group.

“Maybe we can do something! Did you see how it reacted to the Shrub-o-Cide?” Gladys was still standing by the table, an herbicide vendor’s stall, and hefted another bottle. “Maybe if we could spray enough on it…”

“That sounds dangerous…”

“Are you sure there’s enough to do anything…”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale leaned in close to Crowley while the humans bickered. Crowley tipped his head down so Aziraphale would be able to whisper into his ear. “I think the plant was coming after me because I miracled the flamethrower away. It did the same after I used magic earlier, too.”

“What the deuce _were_ you doing earlier?” Crowley raised an eyebrow over his sunglasses. “But if it really is just a big plant…”

“Yes! I always thought you were just being dramatic about me touching your plants-“

“Thanks.” It was Aziraphale’s turn to raise an eyebrow and snort.

“We both know you can be particular about them and you can’t deny that. But as I was saying, perhaps there’s some truth to it and when I use magic…”

“It’s like turning on a great neon sign saying ‘Supper’s on!” Crowley grinned.

“Now who’s getting ideas? But I suppose it’s like you said earlier, more like a reflex. Like the flytrap, yes?” Aziraphale looked to where the epicenter of the plant was still slowly growing over the walls and ceiling, unfurling and undulating out.

“It’s decided then!” Evan’s voices rang out. “We’ve got to stop this thing.”

“But it’s so big… How are we going to spray enough herbicide on it?”

“Oh!” Aziraphale brightened, thinking he was about to contribute a very helpful and intelligent suggestion. And under any other circumstances, it might have been. “I don’t suppose there’s some way we could utilize the sprinkler system?”

There was silence. The humans gaped at him. Something told him it wasn’t in awe at his incredible, creative idea. Aziraphale turned to Crowley in confusion.

“And kill every other plant in here with it?” Crowley was also looking at him in horror.

“Oh, please, I think we have bigger problems at the moment than the survival of a few houseplants.” Aziraphale tanned cheeks turned ruddy, feeling a bit put out and not very charitable. Many of the humans gave him dirty looks. “Your plan to burn the thing down would have done the same.”

“Well.” Now the humans gave Crowley disapproving looks. He looked a little embarrassed. “I wasn’t really thinking it through… You know I was only trying to be difficult.”

“We’ll leave those as last resort, then. Might come to it…” Said Arnold, less than hopefully.

“Don’t start that. There’s some spray bottles about, but I don’t know if they’d reach high enough.”

“Hosing, too, but how would we get the herbicide propelled through it?”

“D’you think these would work?” Crowley pulled a novelty bag of multicolor water balloons from his coat pocket. Aziraphale coughed in derision. The humans seemed impressed.

“You know, that might just do the trick.” Gladys beamed.

[4. He said this much _like_ such a person. Most doors would open for him upon a glance, something deep in their woody souls trembling at thoughts of hellfire and how oh, so flammable they truly were… But he’d never really got the hang of cypress. It just didn’t seem very impressed. It always left him feeling a little self-conscious.]

~~~~~

They spent the next twenty minutes heroically filling balloon after balloon with the herbicide. After they had emptied every bottle into about seventy brimming balloons, it was time to put their plan into action.

The showroom was darkening as the vines nearly carpeted the ceiling. Eight adult humans and two very ancient unearthly beings hefted an armful of rainbow balloons each. They encircled the dense center of the plant as best they could, with how it had grown outward to enormous size. The plant simply quietly continued to grow, oblivious to the impending danger.

They hadn’t discussed who would give a cue, so each unsurely waited for another to give an inspiring _now!_

Aziraphale gave an impatient _ahem_ , and tossed a balloon.

The plant immediately began shivering and shrinking in on itself. The humans began throwing with vigor, encouraged that they might actually succeed. Crowley tossed his balloons half-heartedly, concern slowly knitting his brows.

As the last balloon was thrown, it was clear the herbicide had had a dramatic effect on the areas it had come in contact with. The original mass was greatly reduced, revealing tables and displays that it had engulfed. Even the vines along the ceiling that they hadn’t been able to reach had receded, as if the plant was curling in on itself for protection. The plant was still withering a bit, but the damage was slowing and yet more vines continued to grow. It wasn’t enough to stop it.

The plant wasn’t making any effort to defend itself, attack back. Crowley wasn’t sure it had the capacity to. It was just a plant, nothing to indicate it was even a dangerously poisonous or sporous variety.

“Perhaps we could find some more herbicide about, finish the job?” Aziraphale suggested, knowing he could just finger waggle a few bottles into existence when no one was looking.

“Wait-“ Crowley started, uncertain.

“HELP!” Someone cried out. The group looked around, accounting for everyone.

“You idiots- In here!” The voice was coming from the _very core_ of the mass. As the vines receded, slower and slower, they were finally able to make out glimpses of someone entrapped deep in the vines.

“How did you get trapped in there?” Gladys asked in horror.

“I just crawled in and made myself at home- How do you _think_ I got in here?” The trapped human said acidly. He was now revealed enough that you could see the irritated scowl on his face. Aziraphale suddenly recognized him as the person he had bumped into earlier.

“I remember you! You were about when all this started. Do you know what started this mess?” He briefly looked embarrassed and then quickly defiant, straightening as much as he could while suspended by vines.

“I did this.”

“Why are you yelling at us for something you did to yourself, then? Not much sense there.” Crowley raised his eyebrows.

“That’s a good point.” Aziraphale nodded. The other humans nodded their agreement at this sound sense.

“I- Obviously I wasn’t trying to do _this_ ,” they wiggled uselessly in the vines. He realized how stupid he must look and stopped. “My name is Hugo Harris – No need to remember it, it’ll be plastered across the headlines soon enough – pioneer in agricultural biotechnology. Before you, you see the future.”

“Before me, I see a great bloated head.” Aziraphale quietly remarked. Crowley sniggered.

“You may laugh, but just you wait. My _Hugosimus giganteus_ is going to revolutionize farming. Even provided with just the barest amounts of water, light, and nutrients, it will continue to grow and grow…and grow apparently. I need to work on that. But think about how much it has grown in just the last hour! Imagine, crops by the dozen overnight, even in the most barren, famine-stricken lands. The costs saved by farmers would be monumental.”

“My, that’s actually quite nice.”

“With a _small_ down payment to me, and rental fees for rights to continued use, and a portion of profits along the way, of course. But it’s not like they have the choice to grow anything _else_.” Hugo snorted.

“Nevermind then, huh, angel?” Crowley said, amused.

“If you’re so great and mighty, how’d it really get you, then? It’s not even that fast.” Humans really were wonderful at knocking each other down a peg. Hugo colored.

“I looked away for a moment. Resting my eyes. Developing my masterpiece has taken many long nights, as is to be expected. It grew over me before I noticed.”

“I suppose sloth is their and your downfall alike, Crowley.”

“Hey, don’t associate me with this stooge. _I_ don’t endorse profiting off starvation.”

“When you’re finished prattling, will you get me the hell out of here already?” Aziraphale sighed.

“I suppose we really must, can’t leave them tethered up like that.” Aziraphale told the group reasonably. Many were looking at Hugo less than kindly, and he couldn’t say he didn’t empathize.

“But we’ll have to go find some more herbicide first, obviously.” Gladys seemed pleased that at least Hugo would be stuck in there just a little longer.

“Wait, wait, wait. Hold on just a moment. That’s what I was trying to say before.” Crowley bit his lip. “I don’t think we should douse it in anymore herbicide.”

“Actually,” Hugo squinted at Crowley. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t kill years of my hard work with that poison, as well. Why don’t _you_ want to use it? Want to steal my research for yourself, do you?”

“I really couldn’t care less about your research or potential profits. It’s just…” Aziraphale was giving him a strange look. “Well, it’s not very sporting, is it? It hasn’t actually hurt anyone –“

“I’ve been stuck in here for an _hour_.”

“As loathe as I am to side with you, it did attack me twice, Crowley.”

“But did it _hurt_ you? That was only when we made it drop you, Aziraphale, and we’ve already established that that was your own slumbering fault.” Crowley gave Hugo an unimpressed look. “And it hasn’t defended itself against us at all this whole time.”

“What? Of course it’s not attacking back.” Hugo snorted. “It’s a mindless _crop_ , not a B movie monster. Though certainly more indirectly dangerous than I anticipated.”

Aziraphale put a hand to his mouth, uncertain. It _had_ grabbed at him, but what was its intention after that? If it just wanted to grow around him like an angelic grow lamp, it had to be admitted that that wasn’t particular malevolent.

“But we can’t just let it keep growing. Look how much damage it’s already caused here.” Kamala’s brows furrowed.

“You’re the one who made the thing. If you don’t want us to kill it, don’t you, I don’t know,” Aziraphale twiddled his thumbs. “Know its secret weakness?”

“Again, not a B movie.”

“It’s a bit like a B movie,” Aziraphale grumbled. Then he turned to Crowley, an idea taking form in his mind. If it really was only a plant, no smarter than any other…

“Then we’ve got no other solution.” Evan said impatiently.

“…I might have something.” Aziraphale looked into Crowley’s face and put a hand to his back.

“You’re making me nervous.” Crowley gave Aziraphale a healthily wary look. Underestimating Aziraphale had never gained him anything. But then, his plans were often at the expense of Crowley’s person or pride, too.

“Why don’t you try the same thing you do with your own plants at home, when you want them to shape up?”

“Please, Aziraphale,” Crowley cringed. This was about what he feared. “You know I hate doing it even in front of just _you_.”

“What the hell are you two considering?” Hugo looked worried.

“Sh. Don’t you think it might work, though?” Aziraphale lowered his voice gently. “We wouldn’t have to kill it if it did. You’re obviously feeling compassionate for the poor thing –“

“Oh, don’t start.” Crowley heaved a heavy breath. “Fine, fine, I’ll do it.”

“Okay, but what is ‘it’?” Gladys also looked concerned.

“He’s going to talk to it,” Aziraphale said matter of factly. Crowley groaned.

“O…h?” Gladys’ voice traveled several tones, from acceptance, to apprehension, to confusion.

“Oh!” Arnold just seemed thrilled. “I speak to my plants, too, no need to be ashamed. Really enriches them, I think. Though I’m not sure how that’ll help here…”

“Crowley’s approach is… Unique.” Aziraphale gave Crowley a fortifying pat.

“Let’s just get this over with. I want all of you to turn around, so I haven’t got all your eyes boring into me.” Crowley waited until everyone complied, even Hugo closing his eyes. He turned back to the plant, and then began to feel foolish. “Nevermind that. I’ll look like an idiot with you all turned away around me while I’m talking to an oversized weed.”

“Will you stop being finicky and get to it already?” Hugo snapped. Crowley grumbled about ungratefulness, but straightened himself as if to begin a speech.

“Ahem… Hello, you great, big– or bad day, you- Aziraphale, I can _hear_ you being amused over there, knock it off.” Crowley gave him a glare before taking a deep breath, starting again. He looked up at the mat of vines, slowly regaining itself, pale scars of shriveled vines marking where the herbicide had injured it.

“Crowley, it’s getting well past lunch and we had a date, could you leave the being poetic for later?” Crowley sighed and gave the plant a stern look over his sunglasses.

“Hey, you big, ugly thing.” Seemingly no response yet. “Yeah, I’m talking to you up there with the… great big vines.”

“Is he… _bullying_ it?” Kamala whispered to Aziraphale.

“Shhh.”

“I can’t- even believe you have the nerve to show your face here. Don’t you see all these other plants about? Top of their type, each one of them. Full in bloom and not a blight on them.”

The mass seemed to tremble ever so slightly. Crowley snorted, getting into his element.

“And look at _you_. I suppose some might say a lack of shame is admirable, but c’mon. Uneven, broken bark. No consistent patterning. Do you have a single leaf that _isn’t_ torn with how you drag them about?”

The vines began receding in on their core. Hugo was suddenly able to wriggle himself free.

“I can’t believe this stupid plan is actually working.” Hugo said in, as one might expect, disbelief. Aziraphale beamed at Crowley. Time for the final blow.

“You’re not even that big, really. Have you ever seen a sequoia? Now that’s big. Uh…” Crowley was beginning to run out of insults to throw at the plant. He looked to Aziraphale for help.

“Tell it it’ll never be as beautiful as the other plants.” Aziraphale whispered enthusiastically.

“Ouch, angel. Um… That’s rich if you think you’ll ever amount to anything like show quality. Woo- _wee_ , would that be a lifetime’s work.”

The plant shook for a moment, and then began to shrivel smaller and smaller. Now the size of a double-decker bus, an outdoor electrical cabinet, a large dog. Finally, a simple, unassuming twig. A single, perfect, dark green leaf grew off one end. Crowley walked up to it and picked it up between thumb and forefinger.

“W-Well. I’ll be having that back now, I think.” Hugo seemed a little shaken by what he had seen, but not enough to forget what he was here for.

“I _don’t_ think.” Aziraphale grasped Hugo’s shoulder. Hugo had already made more trouble than the average person’s lifetime. It couldn’t hurt to balance that out a bit, could it? “Do you know what I do think?”

“What?” Hugo was feeling a little dizzy.

“I think you’d have an awfully fulfilling time using those brains of yours for _good_.”

“That’s sounds nice.” Hugo said faintly.

“Oh, c’mon, I’m the one who does all the work and you get them?” Crowley crossed his arms.

“I thought you didn’t agree with their goals?”

“Yeah, but have you _been_ here the last hour? The chaos? I could have them engineer hardier weeds to plague people’s gardens. Make bananas have even more of those yucky, stringy bits. Y’know, evil that’s _really_ going to get under people’s skin-”

“That really just happened.” Gladys stared at the twig in Crowley’s hand. Aziraphale and Crowley suddenly remembered that all the humans were still there, standing around in shock at what they had witnessed.

“Is this the part where we get to do the fun Men in Black thing?” Crowley raised his eyebrows hopefully.

“Excuse me?” Gladys raised her arms defensively.

“Oh, goodness, do you know how much work it would be to track down everyone who’s run off by now? Perhaps it’s best to just let them know. If one of _them_ came up with it, it’s not the last we’ll see of its ilk.”

“What are you two even talking about?” said Evan.

“Of course, we will have to clean up _this_.” Aziraphale nodded towards the group. Crowley brought the twig up to eye level and grinned.

“Sure thing.”

~~~~~

The humans were all dazedly off on their way to tell their respective loved ones about all the unbelievable thing that had happened that day, and weren’t they just green with jealousy that they hadn’t come because plant shows were so _boring_ … Of course, they would have to make it through the barricade of police and reporters outside the showroom first. They would be alright.

Two human-shaped beings were the only ones remaining inside. They picked their way through the botanical debris, back toward one of the human-shaped being’s show table. Overhead, the cool dusk air and bruised sky of sunset peeked through the shattered windows.  

“Are you going to keep it, then?”

“S’ppose I’m the only one who can control it. It’s my responsibility then, really.” Crowley did not seem displeased by the prospect. He twiddled the twig between his fingers.

“I think you just want a new toy.” Aziraphale smiled at the spinning twig. “But you’d best keep it in the garden so it doesn’t get out of control again and ruin the house.”

“Mhm.” Crowley hummed absent-mindedly, considering exactly where he would plant it. There wasn’t any guide to growing _Hugosimus giganteus_ out there. It would take some trial and error.

They finally arrived back at Crowley’s table. It was relatively untouched, though there were some scraps of plants scattered about. Crowley was considering letting Aziraphale help carry the plants back to the car when Aziraphale snapped and they were gone, instantly safe back at home. Crowley had done enough good deed that day and Aziraphale wanted to get a head start on balancing that back out.

“So…” Aziraphale carefully looked at Crowley. There was something they hadn’t quite resolved yet. “Not still down about the judging, are you?”

Crowley sighed.

“Did you have to bring it back up? I’d almost forgotten with all the excitement.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Aziraphale played with a ring on his finger, feeling guilty. “But I really do want to make it up to you. Though I suppose it would have to be dinner now…”

Aziraphale truly just wanted to go home and sink into the couch with Crowley for a bit. Maybe there were some leftovers they could reheat, he could even throw in some fresher vegetables so it wouldn’t be too pathetic…

“That’s alright. I don’t really want to go out to eat anymore anyway.” Crowley gave him an uneven grin. “You can owe me for next time.”

“Absolutely.” Aziraphale had one last thing for Crowley. He always was delighted by a confession. “There is one more thing I should likely mention.”

“Yeah? I’m still waiting for you to tell me you caused all this.” Crowley elbowed him good-naturedly.

“Honestly, perhaps on accident, but that’s not what I’m getting at. You remember when I told you I was going to finish up at the library? I actually followed after the judges.” Aziraphale became very interested in a piece of lint on his sleeve. He considered telling Crowley he simply had a nice chat with them.

“Go on.” Crowley pushed his sunglasses into his hair and looked at Aziraphale with anticipation. He probably already knew where this was going.

“Well, I _tried_ to simply talk to them, talk them into reconsidering, get them to see some reason, but-“ Aziraphale looked Crowley seriously in the eyes. “Crowley, they were with the most insufferable contestant. And none of them would _listen_.”

“Uh huh.” Crowley was a rapt audience now.

“So- So I just suggested that they give your plants a second look. That’s all. And then everything went topsy-turvy.”

“And by suggested you mean _suggested_ , yes?” Aziraphale sighed.

“Yes.” Aziraphale stuffed his hands in his camel hair coat pockets, cheeks burning. “Now I’ve embarrassed myself thoroughly for you, does that make up for everything this morning? Just a little?”

Crowley could only grin at Aziraphale for a moment. He really could be just brilliant.

“Come here.” Aziraphale obligingly walked up to Crowley and wrapped his arms around Crowley’s middle, resting his head against Crowley’s collar. Crowley slung his arms over Aziraphale’s shoulders. “Thank you very much for thoroughly embarrassing yourself for me.”

“You’re welcome.” Aziraphale hummed, content. “Would you say that was a good job badly done, or a bad one well?”

Crowley laughed.

“I’d say the bad job was badly done. But the good one was accomplished very well indeed.” Aziraphale chuckled, too. Crowley pushed some of Aziraphale’s dark, messy hair out of his face.

“I _am_ glad.” Aziraphale pulled back a little to look into Crowley’s face. “It feels like something’s awfully upside down in the world whenever you get pessimistic like that.”

Crowley wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He hugged Aziraphale closer briefly before taking a step back, casting about.

“Well. As romantic as all this broken glass is, perhaps we should get going before the police finally come investigating around.”

“Perhaps.”

Crowley’s gaze lighted upon a gaudy, purple and blue rose bud on the ground, its petals bruised from its own adventures that day. He picked it up. As Crowley held the bud in his hand, it blossomed, petals gently unfurling into a deep crimson.

“Cheap.” Aziraphale said and raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. But you liked it anyway.”

“Yes.” Aziraphale couldn’t help but give a pleased smile as Crowley handed him the rose. He cradled it close to his chest. Crowley leaned in and gave him a kiss at the very edge of his smile.

“Let’s go home.”  


End file.
